Runaway- Chapter 4: Jamon Finds Something Out
by Mage Melery
Summary: Hey. We meet Joren in this part, and Jamon finds out something odd.....


Hey everyone. This is Chapter 4. Although ppl haven't said anything about this (to my confined knowledge), I feel that my chapters aren't long enough, so I'm gonna start writing them bigger. This is going to become a really long series, unless I get bored and have a massacre or something.  
Does anyone know any words I can use instead of 'me' and 'I'?   
Incase I hadn't mentioned it, this series is set between Page and First Test. I haven't read Page, so don't hassle me or anything.  
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I woke up the next day, and felt wonderful. The pounding in my head had disappeared, I wasn't the least bit tired and I was so hungry my stomach was digesting it's lining.  
  
Slowly, in case I wasn't completely better, I sat up and looked out the window. The room the healer had provided for me was on the second floor and overlooked the street. It was about noon, and the crowd was bustling around, looking for lunch, or hurrying home.  
  
In the distance, not that far away was the castle. It seemed further away then it actually was, because it was so HUGE! Home was dozens times smaller. Home... I turned away, feeling slightly homesick.  
  
Then I turned back, someone out there was hurting a tree. Scanning the view with my eyes, I could see nothing. I checked my pool of magic, way down deep. It was fuller then ever, completely returned after a few days of sleep. Then I sent it out, searching for the tree in pain.   
There it was. One of the trees inside the training grounds at the palace.   
  
Three boys, of about thirteen, stood by a birch sapling, kicking it and pulling the leaves of it's branches. --Help me,-- the young tree moaned.  
  
--Help is here,-- I assured it.  
  
I magically placed myself in the tree, to get a better view of the boys.  
  
They all wore a page's uniform, meaning they weren't fourteen yet. One with blonde hair, and blue eyes stood aside. Though he looked like a girl, he was obviously their leader. "Vinson," he addressed the tall, bony boy, "I'm bored, uproot it, and we'll go into the market."  
  
"Sure thing, Joren," he replied.  
  
The Bazhir boy laughed. "You pull like a girl, Vinson. Worse than a girl actually, you pull like the Lump."  
  
The Lump? What's a Lump? I asked myself.  
  
--One of the girls who train as a knight here,-- the tree said.  
  
--Thankyou. I'll stop them, now.--  
  
Using my- the tree's branches, I whipped them in the faces and scratched them with the serrated leaves. Where they held onto the bark, I used my magic to grow thorns into their palms. "Ow," the Bazhir boy said, holding his cradling his hand.  
  
"What's wrong with this stupid tree?" Vinson asked, in a similar position to the Bazhir.  
  
--Leave. Me. Alone!-- Melery screamed.  
  
"Wha- what was that?" Joren asked, frightened.  
  
"I don't know. Probably the Lump. Let's just get out of here," the Bazhir said, walking towards the gate.  
  
For good measure, I pulled my roots up as they were walking above them.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
I withdrew, and looked around my room. Folded on a chair near the door was a folded pair of worn breeches, and a faded shirt. Looking down, I realised I was wearing the grotty clothes from three- four?- days ago. I picked up the clothes, and went through a door into a small bathroom.  
  
I got changed, used the privy and washed my face. Then I went through the room to my door, into a hallway. On my right was another door, to the left was a staircase. I silently tiptoed down the stairs and looked around down there.  
  
There was the main room and front door to one side of the stairs, and on the other side a kitchen. Sitting around the table was Jamon, his granmother, another elderly woman, I assumed her to be Trenta, and a young woman my age, with red hair and the same brown eyes as Jamon. They were having a discussion in whispers.  
  
"Trenta," Granmother was saying, "tell Jamon what you were telling me."  
  
"Jamon, I know you like this girl, but I think that your trust is misplaced."  
  
"Why?" He asked, "she saved me life!"  
  
"I know, but she is different from what she looks."  
  
"What do ye mean?"  
  
"Her hair is black, is it not?"  
  
"Of course,"  
  
"It has been dyed."  
  
"How can ye tell these things?!"  
  
"The Gift. Her hair, instead of being black, like it appears, is actually pale green. And her eyes are not, in fact, brown, but forest green."  
  
"By the Gods," He had stood up, "why would she want t' disguise herself?"  
  
"I don't know, but there is someting else. Her Gift is not like mine or your sister's. It can make light, and create fires, but it is a form of Wild- magic."  
  
"Wild magic? Isn't that for animals?"  
  
"Yes, usually, but her's appears to be closely linked to trees."  
  
"Trees? Yes, that would explain what happened at the Dancing Dove."  
  
Suddenly, I felt the cold steel of a dagger pushed against my neck. "Who are you?" A rough voice- Jamon's- asked.  
  
"Me- Mari Oak."  
  
"What is yer real name?"  
  
"What real name? That is my real name."  
  
"Why have ye dyed yer hair?"  
  
"It was too noticeable before," I mumbled to my feet.  
  
"And why do ye have lenses on yer eyes."  
  
"See above." I said.  
  
He removed the dagger from my throat and moved around to look me in the eyes. "Was that a joke?"  
  
"Depends if it means my head goes rolling."  
  
"Ye realise I could kill ye?"  
  
"Yes, but you wouldn't."  
  
"What makes you think that?" His voice was tough, but I had seen the surprise in his eyes.  
  
"Even though you're a theif, even though you kill people, doesn't mean you would kill a young woman in cold blood, in your mother's home."  
  
"Well, yer right," he grumbled, "but only 'cos I'd be the one to clean ye up."  
  
I laughed and he smiled. Then his face hardened. "I may not know who ye are, Mari Oak, but I'm keeping my eyes on you."  
  
"And I'm keeping an eye on you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You're the King of the Thieves. More respected then King Jon in the Lower City."  
  
"Ye're right. An' Granmother says I'm to take ye shopping."  
  
"Shopping? What for?"  
  
"Face paints, clothes and books for ye, magic items and plants for her. She assured me that ye would be able to pick a good plant for 'er."  
  
With those last words, he led me to the front door, and we went out into the street.  
  
  
  



End file.
